


A Christmas Miracle

by MrBenzedrine89



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Christmas fic, Cute, Drabble, F/M, One Shot, Secret Santa, dramione - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-21
Updated: 2017-12-21
Packaged: 2019-02-17 20:04:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,242
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13084389
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MrBenzedrine89/pseuds/MrBenzedrine89
Summary: An innocent prank unfolds into a season of feelings when Hermione Granger receives a very romantic gift from a not so secret santa.“Malfoy, the way Secret Santa works is you leave your name off of the gift.” Hermione smirked.“Granger, I didn’t get you a gift, and I am most definitely not your Secret Santa,” Malfoy replied coolly as his friends began to laugh, exposing their secret.





	A Christmas Miracle

**Written for the Strictly Dramione Christmas Secret Santa.  
  
Prompt #19  
An innocent prank unfolds into a season of feelings when Hermione Granger receives a very romantic gift from a not so secret santa.   
“Malfoy, the way Secret Santa works is you leave your name _off_ of the gift.” Hermione smirked.  
“Granger, I didn’t get you a gift, and I am most definitely _not_ your Secret Santa,” Malfoy replied coolly as his friends began to laugh, exposing their secret.  
**   
**A special thank you to my elf (beta) who I can't mention, otherwise, it'll give who I am away!**   
  


* * *

  
  


“Er...Hermione?”   
  
Harry wasn’t entirely sure how to gauge his best friend’s expression as she stood beside the Ministry of Magic Christmas tree. She looked to be somewhere between petrified (he’d seen her petrified in second year, after all) and stunned - though, he doubted a stunning spell was to blame for her slack jaw, wide eyes, and sharp wheeze of breath every four or five seconds confirming she was still alive and hadn’t died on the spot.    
  
He waved a hand in front of her eyes, but they didn’t blink. Not once. They were too preoccupied staring at the gift inside the tiny box in her hands.     
  
“Earth to Hermione! Hello! Ron, can a box be cursed to freeze someone in place?”   
  
To his left, Ron Weasley bit the head off of a chocolate frog - one of the many from his basket of Honeydukes goodies from his Secret Santa. As he chewed thoughtfully, he answered, “I ‘unno, ‘less George found a new joke for the,” he swallowed, “shop.” His eyes scanned the brunette before he smirked, pulled out a whole chocolate frog still wiggling in the basket, and held it up to pop it into her mouth. The moment the candy-webbed foot touched her cheek, Hermione snapped out of her trance and swiped the frog out of Ron’s hand, causing it to fall to the floor.   
  
“Aww, come on! They’ve only got a few good jumps in ‘em!” Ron scolded, chasing after the treat.    
  
Harry stifled a laugh. “Good to see you’re not completely too far gone.”   
  
“I can’t believe it,” Hermione muttered.   
  
“What?”   
  
“I simply can’t.”   
  
“Can’t what?”   
  
“It’s just so ridiculous to even consider…”   
  
“Her-mi-o-ne!” Harry sighed. “I’m about to start pulling my hair out.”   
  
“Sorry, Harry,” she said, biting her lower lip. “It’s just...well...here.”   
  
He thought she might hand him the present, but she only held out the ribbon that had been wrapped around it with a tag that said, “To Hermione Granger...Yours... _ Ma--Malfoy _ ?” Harry blinked, rubbed his eyes, blinked again, but no - the writing was still there. Flourishing. Posh. Entirely too aristocratic to deny. “ _ Malfoy  _ is your ‘Secret Santa’?”   
  


* * *

  
  
Indeed, Draco Malfoy  _ was  _ Hermione Granger’s Secret Santa. After all, the tag on the box couldn’t have been incorrect, could it? It said her name, clear as day. And her name was very unique - there was no way it could have been meant for someone else. Still, what baffled her even more was the gift inside.    
  
How could anyone but  _ Malfoy  _ afford something like it?   
  
“Excuse me, Harry,” she said, her eyes drifting over toward the punch bowl, where Malfoy and his merry band of friends laughed over something no doubt ridiculous. 

 

“You’ve got that look in your eye,” Harry replied.   
  
“What look?”   
  
“The look that says I should hold you back.”   
  
“Nonsense. I’m a grown woman, am I not? What do you think I will do?”   
  
Harry’s apologetic grin only masked the fine layer of fear beneath. “I just need you to take two deep breaths and remember we’re at the  _ Ministry of Magic.  _ Any one of these Aurors, Malfoy included, won’t hesitate to jump the gun if they think you’re about to hex Malfoy’s bits into oblivion.”   
  
“Good lord, Harry. I’m a pacifist by nature.”   
  
“Yes, like you’ll  _ pass a fist  _ into Malfoy’s jaw.”   
  
“Hush, you.”    
  
With determination, she strode forward, refusing to slow down until she was face to face with her Secret Santa.    
  
“Hello, Draco.”   
  
Malfoy quirked an eyebrow. “Granger, for the last bloody time, I  _ won’t  _ sign your idiotic Christmas card for the house elves in accounting.”   
  
_ Be strong,  _ she told herself. “This isn’t about the Christmas card. It’s about this.” She held up the small box between them, containing a set of diamond earrings in the shape of snowflakes.    
  
“And?”   
  
To her left, she could hear the sniggers of Theodore Nott and Blaise Zabini from the Misuse of Magic Artifacts Department.   
  
“And?  _ And? _ ” She couldn’t believe he’d be so brash. “Malfoy, the way Secret Santa works is you leave your name  _ off  _ of the gift.” Hermione smirked.   
  
“Granger, I didn’t get you a gift, and I am most definitely  _ not  _ your Secret Santa,” Malfoy replied coolly as his friends began to laugh, exposing their secret.    
  
“Oh.” She glanced over to the two idiots flanking Malfoy. “Oh, I see.”   
  
Foolish. That’s how Hermione felt. Foolish to think Malfoy would  _ actually  _ get her a gift. Foolish to think he  _ actually… _   
  
“Excuse me.”    
  
She hadn’t realized she’d left the party until she found herself sitting in a hallway, tears streaming down her cheeks and fingers clutching the Secret Santa box.   
  
Of course, it hadn’t been from Malfoy. How could she think otherwise? Why had she thought that one night three months ago meant anything to him?    
  
_ ‘I’ll...see you around, Granger,’  _ he’d said the next morning.    
  
They’d hardly spoken a word to each other since. Just two vulnerable strangers with too much alcohol in their system and not enough common sense to know better.    
  
And yet, when she’d received the Secret Santa gift...a part of her thought…

 

“Granger?”   
  
“Go away, Malfoy.”   
  
“No. I shan’t. It’s Christmas.”   
  
And with that, he sat down.    
  
“Look...I...er...sorry about...the um...you know…” He nudged toward the box. “My mates...they…”   
  
“They were just playing a prank,” she whispered, attempting to keep her tone light. “That’s all.”   
  
“Right.” Malfoy ran his fingers through his hair. “Right…”    
  
“It was foolish of me to think you’d get me anything so extravagant,” she said flippantly, trying to make light of the situation. “After all, one random, drunken shag hardly constitutes as-”   
  
He set something in her lap: a box, even smaller than the one before.   
  
“What’s this?”   
  
“Don’t be daft, Granger. It’s your Christmas present.”   
  
“You...you got me a Christmas present?”   
  
“Don’t look at me that way. Just open it.”   
  
And she did, only to find… “My hair scrunchie?”   
  
“You, er...you left it behind that night,” he whispered, clearing his throat.    
  
“You’ve been carrying around my hair scrunchie for three months?” She blinked at him, astounded. “Why?”   
  
“Been meaning to give it back to you,” he assured her. “I just...you were always around Potter or Weasley, and I…”   
  
“I see.”   
  
“My friends are morons.”

  
“Indeed, they are.” She looked down at the box in her lap. “Still, they are nice earrings.”   
  
“You know the only reason they did it is because I never shut up about you, right?”   
  
“A push.”   
  
He nodded. “A push.”   
  
“Maybe your friends aren’t as moronic as they seem.”   
  
“Oh no, believe me. They are…” He paused. “So, do you think you’d want to maybe...leave another scrunchie at my place sometime?”   
  
Hermione smiled, her cheeks warming as she held the scrunchie between them. “Oh, I suppose….after all,” she said, lacing their fingers together, “‘Tis the season for Christmas miracles, yes?”


End file.
